“But if it hadn’t been for the house, I never would have come back,” I said.
“Maybe,” said Jessica. “Meddling with Time is an uncertain business. Sometimes I think the whole universe runs on irony. By interfering, we created a rod for our own backs and the seed of our own destruction. Doesn’t it make you want to spit?”
“And once you returned, events proceeded with predictable inevitability,” said Annie Abattoir. “By insisting on searching for the truth about your mother, though everyone warned you against it, you set in place the chain of events that led to the War between your forces and hers. The two of you destroyed the Nightside by fighting over it, like two dogs with a single bone, because neither of you would allow the other to control it. Between you, you sucked all the life out of the world, draining it dry to power greater and greater magics, for your precious War.”
“You squandered your own people,” said Larry. “Throwing them into the fray, again and again. Nothing mattered to either of you, except winning. And so the War went on, until you both ran out of people to throw at each other, and there was no-one left but you and Lilith.”
“You killed each other,” said Count Video, still staring into the fire. “Using the Speaking Gun. But by then it was far too late. The damage had been done.”
“That’s why we retrieved the Gun and bonded it to Suzie,” said Jessica. “Even though the process nearly destroyed us. Because it was the only weapon we were sure would destroy you. She screamed like the damned when we fitted it to her, but she never once flinched away. Poor Suzie. Brave Suzie.”
And then all our heads whipped round, and we fell silent, as we heard something impossibly huge and heavy dragging itself by, outside. We all stood very still, listening. Even King of Skin stopped whimpering in his corner. The whole house shook with each dragging movement, then the sounds moved on, fading away into the night. We all slowly relaxed. No wonder my Enemies were so diminished. To have to live like this, all the time, never free from fear, never knowing when they might be discovered and killed… Not unlike the life they made for me, really. But it was hard for me to feel any real sense of revenge, or satisfaction. No-one should have to live like this.
“All that remains of Humanity now,” said Jessica, “is small groups like us. Those who survived the War by hiding, like frightened mice in their holes. We’re still hiding, hanging on, surviving, doing what we can. Hoping against hope… for a miracle. But we haven’t heard anything from the other groups for months now, and when we call out, no-one answers. So perhaps… we’re all that’s left. The last Redoubt of Humanity, pinning all our hopes on the death of one man.”
“Who would have thought it would come down to the likes of us, to be Humanity’s last hope,” said King of Skin sadly, from his corner.
We all looked at him, waiting, but he had nothing else to say. He still wouldn’t look at me. But at least he’d stopped crying.
“Outside, all that lives now are the last few remnants of Lilith’s children,” said Larry Oblivion. “Mutated and monstrous, and quite mad. Roaming the ruins, killing everything they find, including each other. I sometimes wonder if they even know the War is over. They won’t last much longer. The energies loosed during the War, by you and your mother, are still abroad in the night, changing everything, mutating everything. Soon enough they’ll all be gone… and so will we, and what’s left of the world will belong to the insects.”
“But now I’m here,” I said forcefully. “And we’ve talked, and that changes everything.”
“Does it?” said Jessica.
“Yes,” I said. “I have to believe that. And so do you. It’s our only hope. Humanity’s only hope. Use your power. Send me back into the Past, back to the time I came from. And I promise you I’ll find a way to stop Lilith that doesn’t involve raising an army. There won’t be any War, to cause all this.”
“You want us to trust you?” said Count Video. “Trust the man who damned us all?”
“Why should we believe in you?” said Larry. “Why should we trust in you, John Taylor, Lilith’s son?”
“Because your brother Tommy did,” I said. “Even though he had good reason not to.”
Count Video rose abruptly to his feet, turning to face me. “We could kill you,” he said. “Now you’re here, finally, in our grasp. We could kill you, even if it meant all our deaths. It might be worth it, to know you were dead. And then maybe we could all rest peacefully.”
“Do you want revenge, or do you want to stop the War?” I said. “If I die, here and now, who’s going to stop Lilith? You must know she plans to remake the Nightside in her own image, kill everyone who stands against her, and remake Humanity into something more pliable, to serve her all her days. I think I’d rather be dead, than that. I’m the only chance you’ve got of stopping Lilith. Of stopping this. If I can find a way to bring her down, without fighting a War… that has to be more important than revenge. Doesn’t it?”
In the end, they only argued for about ten minutes before reluctantly agreeing. Annie Abattoir opened a vein in her arm, and used the blood to draw a pentacle on the floor, while the others worked together to raise what power remained to them. Jessica Sorrow used her teddy bear as a focus for the right place and time. Count Video swept his hands back and forth, leaving sparkling energy traces on the air, weaving description theory and binary magics, while his neurotech sparked and sputtered on his wrinkled flesh. King of Skin stood tall and proud, doing what he was born to do, evoking powerful magics with ancient Words of Power. And Larry Oblivion took it all in, his undead body the conduit for the terrible energies they were raising, absorbing all the punishment so the others could concentrate on the Working.
Annie Abattoir gestured sharply with her bloody arm, and I stepped inside the pentacle. She closed the pattern with a final flourish, and the spell ignited. The crimson lines of the pentacle blazed with power, and the world outside it began to grow dim and insubstantial to me.
And then King of Skin lifted his head, his eyes huge. “They’re here!” he cried. “They followed Taylor here! They broke through our defences, and we were so preoccupied with Taylor we didn’t even notice! They’re here!”
Monsters came crashing through all the walls at once. Huge brutish forms with eager eyes and dripping mouths. Long claws and taloned hands ripped through stone and brick and plaster, while something dark and leathery smashed a hole through the ceiling. The floor jarred upwards and split apart, as a great eye looked up through the widening chasm. My Enemies ignored them all, concentrating on the Working that would send me back through Time. A barbed tentacle shot down from the ceiling and wrapped itself around Count Video. Blood spurted from his mouth as his ribs collapsed, but he still fought to pronounce the last few Words of Power. A bone spike transfixed Annie Abattoir, gutting her, but still she stood and would not fall.
I faded away, falling back through Time, and that was the last I saw of them. Had the Beasts really followed me to their hiding place? Had I brought their deaths about, after all?
No. I could still save them. Save everyone. I would find a way. That was what I did.
Eight - While I Was Away
I came back to fire and screams, and the thunder of buildings falling. The street was full of rubble and overturned vehicles, and there were bodies everywhere. A shop-front blew out in a soundless explosion, glass fragments flying on the air like shrapnel. I hunkered down, arms over my head, and stared quickly about me. There was fighting going on all around, mad-eyed mobs attacking each other with spells and weapons and anything that came to hand. Fires burned to every side, consuming the few buildings still standing. The air was thick with smoke, and heavy with the stench of burned flesh and spilled blood. I’d come back to a war zone.
For the first time that I could remember, all traffic on the road had stopped. The way was blocked with blazing wrecks, crashed vehicles, and piled-up cars. Some of them had bodies in them, while others leaked blood and similar fluids. A lightning bolt
slammed down only a few feet away from me, buckling the pavement, and I headed for the nearest cover. I scurried over to the broken hulk of an overturned ambulance and crouched down beside it, pressing hard against its blood-smeared side. I could just make out its dying whispers, fluttering on the edges of my mind, as the vehicle’s animating spirit dissipated. I’ve been good… I’ve been good… I’m scared… The ambulance coughed once, then was silent. All around me, the fighting raged back and forth.
I sighed heavily. Some days you can’t turn your back for even a moment, without everything going to hell.
It would seem Lilith had started the War without me. I peered around me, trying to make out landmarks or details through the thick drifting smoke, while various combatants ran back and forth, screaming garbled war cries. After a while, I realised I was back in Uptown, in the heart of Clubland. Or at least, what was left of it. Half of it was already demolished, and there was a firestorm raging at the end of the street. Several of the buildings were burning hotter and brighter than any earthly flames should. Dark figures came and went in the smoke, and only some of them were human. Winged shapes soared by overhead, flapping huge membraneous wings, and none of them were angels.
Some people were trying to help. Staff from the various clubs sprayed the roaring flames with fire extinguishers that probably hadn’t been tested in years. Magics sparked and flared on the grimy air, and a water elemental burst up out of several manholes to drench those buildings closest to it. A group of Christian Commandos chanted a blessing over a fire hose, and used the high-pressure holy water as a weapon against the more sorcerous blazes. Stone golems strode unflinchingly into burning buildings past saving, and pulled them down, using the weight of the rubble to smother the flames. Sometimes the golems came out again, and sometimes they didn’t. All around me, famous clubs with old and honoured names were already gone, reduced to cinders and blackened frames.
A large group of naked men and women, armed with axes and knives and machetes, their ungainly bodies daubed with blood and woad and ashes, came stalking down the ruined street like they owned it. They struck out at everyone they passed, and carried severed heads on poles, all the while howling praises to their god Lugh, and the glories of destruction. They all had mad, happy eyes and broad smiles. Yet many of them were still wearing wristwatches, which was a bit of a give-away that they weren’t quite as primitive as they were affecting. Well, I thought, I’ve got to start somewhere.
I rose from behind the dead ambulance and strode forward to confront the mob. They stumbled to a ragged halt, almost falling over each other. I got the impression it had been some time since anyone had done anything but take one look at them and run away screaming. Their leader fixed me with his best mad stare, and started screaming something nasty about blasphemers, and I walked right up to him and kicked him square in the balls. I put a lot of strength and all my displeasure at what had happened into that kick, and it actually lifted him a few inches into the air before dropping him to his knees. His eyes got very big, and though his mouth was working, not a sound came out of it. He looked like he’d be pretty busy for some time, trying to get some or indeed any air back into his lungs, so I turned my attention to the crowd before me. They looked at their fallen leader, then back at me, and some actually started to shuffle their feet guiltily.
“I am John Taylor,” I announced loudly, giving them my best disturbing smile. The people at the front of the mob immediately tried to press backwards, away from me, but the ones behind them were having none of it. There was a certain amount of undignified scuffling. I raised my voice again. “Whatever you’ve been doing, it stops, right here and now. I have work for you.”
“And what if we don’t feel like working for you?” said a voice from somewhere at the back of the crowd. “You can’t kick us all in the balls.”
“Right,” said someone else. “We can take him! He’s only one man!”
I had to smile. I love it when they say things like that. “You may have heard about this little trick I do,” I said. “Where I take the bullets out of guns.”
Some of the mob began to stand a little straighter. Axes and machetes and knives were brandished.
“Guns?” said a woman, who would definitely have looked a lot better with her clothes on. “We don’t need no stinking guns!”
I could feel my smile broadening. “I’ve been working on a new variation,” I said.
I snapped my fingers, and all the fillings disappeared from their teeth. Along with all crowns, caps, bridges, and veneers. There were a great many howls of muted pain, an awful lot of clapping of hands to mouths, and suddenly everyone in the mob looked a whole lot less crazy and entirely willing to listen to whatever I had to say.
“Any more words of dissent,” I said, “and I will show you another variation, that involves your lungs and a whole bunch of buckets.”
Somewhat garbled voices hastened to assure me that they were all ready and willing to assist me in anything I might want done. So I set them to defending those people who were trying to fight the fires.
I left them to it and set off down the street, stepping carefully around and over the cracked and raised pavement. The air was painfully hot on my face from all the fires, and the smoky air was thick with floating cinders. Fighting was still going on, in fits and starts, but no-one bothered me. I stopped as I came to a club I recognized, the lap-dancing joint Not Fade Away. The ghost girls were out in force, using their smoky bodies to smother any flames that threatened their club’s already scorched façade. The barker kept them moving, his tired and strained voice still rising easily over the general din. He nodded brusquely in my direction as I went over to join him.
“Club’s closed, for redecoration,” he growled out of the corner of his mouth. “We will reopen. Look for our ads.”
“How long is it since I was last here?” I asked him.
“About a week, squire. Just before all this unpleasantness started. Now unless you’ve got something useful to contribute, be a nice gentleman and bog off. The ladies and I are busy.”
I used my gift to find somewhere it was raining heavily, and brought the rain to where it was needed. It slammed down, a torrential downpour the whole length of the street, drowning all the fires and washing the smoke right out of the air. People shouted and cheered, and the ghost girls danced joyously in the street as the rain fell straight through them. I tipped a wink to the barker and continued down the street. I shouldn’t have used my gift so blatantly. Lilith would be bound to detect it, and know I was back. But I needed to do something, and I’ve always had a weakness for the grand gesture.
Next, I needed to find out what had happened while I was away. It appeared my Enemies’ return spell hadn’t been as accurate as I’d hoped.
I eventually found the establishment I was looking for—Simulacra Corner. A discreet little joint, specialising in the sale of magic mirrors, crystal balls, scrying pools, and other less-well-advertised means of spying on your neighbour from a distance. Simulacra Corner dealt in everything from confidential connections to industrial espionage, and everything in between. The sign over the front door said for all your voyeuristic needs. Tucked away down a side street that wasn’t always there, none of the recent excitement had even touched it. As I approached the rough wooden door, an approximation of a face raised itself out of the wood. The blank eyes glared at me, and the brass letter box formed itself into a sneering mouth.
“Go away,” it said, in a harsh, growling voice. “We are closed. As in, not open. Call back later. Or not. See if I care.”
I’ve never cared for snotty simulacra. “You’ll open for me,” I said. “I’m John Taylor.”
“Good for you. Love the trench coat. We’re still not open. And you probably couldn’t afford anything here even if we were.”
“Let me in,” I said pleasantly. “Or I’ll piss through your letterbox.”
The face scowled, then sniffed mournfully. “Yes, that sounds like John Taylor. I h
ate this job. When everyone knows you’re not real, you get no respect.”
The face sank back into the wood, disappearing detail by detail, and the door swung slowly open before me. I stepped inside, and the door immediately slammed shut behind me. An invisible bell tinkled, announcing a customer. The shop’s interior was wonderfully calm and quiet, after the noise and chaos of the street, and the air smelled sweetly of sandalwood and beeswax. The entrance lobby was empty, apart from a few comfortable chairs and a coffee table half-buried under out-of-date magazines. The shop’s owner came bustling forward to greet me, a small furtive type, badly dressed and overweight, and smiling a little bit too widely. He was already rubbing his hands together, and I stuck my hands into my coat pockets so I wouldn’t have to shake hands. I just knew his would be cold and clammy. He looked like the kind of guy who always assures you the first hit is free.
“Mr. Taylor, Mr. Taylor, so good of you to grace my humble establishment with your presence! Sorry we didn’t let you in straightaway, Mr. Taylor, but it’s chaos out there! Absolute chaos, oh my word yes! Can’t be too careful… Don’t those fools realise what they’re doing? Property values will be depressed for years after this!”
“I need to make use of some of your items,” I said, declining to enter a conversation I knew wasn’t going to go anywhere useful. “I need to catch up on what’s been happening in the Nightside, while I was away.”
“Well, I don’t know about that, Mr. Taylor… you don’t actually have a line of credit with us, and in the current circumstances…”
“Charge it to Walker,” I said.
The shop’s owner brightened immediately. “Oh, Mr. Walker! Yes, yes, one of my most valued customers. You’re sure you have his… well, of course you do! Of course! No-one ever takes Mr. Walker’s name in vain, eh? Eh? I’ll just put it all on his bill…”
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